Chapter Eleven: Night Letter
At 2:00 a.m., with the city silent and still, Lin Qishan sat alone under the dim yellow glow of his apartment's desk lamp, the pale light of his computer screen the only other illumination in the room. He read and reread an anonymous email, sliding his finger across the touchpad to zoom in on a cryptic screenshot attachment. Several keywords jumped out from the image: "XC-33 module," "behavioral data," and a string of code that defied parsing. These unfamiliar terms sent a chill down his spine, hinting at a secret experiment within the Xiangci organization. Outside, the night pressed in heavily; a faint beam of streetlight seeped through a gap in the curtains, making the words on the screen flicker in and out of view as if auguring something ominous.
He leaned back in his chair, mind racing to connect the clues he already had. Just yesterday evening he had received this anonymous email—the sender's address was a disposable account with no name attached, and its content consisted only of a terse instruction: "Investigate XC-33." These four brief Chinese characters, combined with the attached snippet of data, immediately brought to mind the string of anomalies that had been occurring around Xiangci lately. Several orphans associated with Xiangci's welfare homes had vanished one after another, and the official investigation team had even mentioned a term like "module" in an internal report—only for the related records to mysteriously disappear afterward. Now, this email felt like a tiny match struck in the darkness, illuminating a corner of the truth he had been struggling to unearth.
Lin Qishan did not rush to alert the investigation team or any colleagues. Instead, he carefully picked up an encrypted phone he used exclusively for investigations and dialed a number. The call connected almost immediately, but no one on the other end spoke. "It's me," Lin Qishan said quietly.
After a brief silence, a hushed female voice finally came on the line. "…You shouldn't be calling this late. Is there trouble?" It was Su Wei—an inside informant at Xiangci and Lin Qishan's covert contact.
"Sorry to call so late," he murmured, trying to keep his voice calm. "I received an anonymous email that mentioned an 'XC-33 module.' Do you know what that is?"
The breathing on the other end caught for a moment; she seemed to hesitate. Then Su Wei replied in a low voice, "How… how do you know that code name? Hardly anyone inside ever brings it up. But I have heard of it—it's related to an orphan project." Lin Qishan's heart clenched at her words, and he quickly pressed for more details.
Su Wei's tone grew even more guarded. "It's not safe to talk about this on the phone," she whispered. "All I can tell you is that 'XC-33' is an experimental module ID associated with an 'orphan behavior model' project. The specifics are highly confidential. I only have a partial understanding myself."
At the words "orphan behavior model," Lin Qishan unconsciously tightened his grip on the phone. This further confirmed his earlier suspicions: Xiangci's benevolent façade hid something far darker—they were conducting some kind of experiment on orphans. Keeping his voice low, he asked, "Is there a list of orphans who took part in this project?"
Su Wei fell silent for a moment. Then she said, "During an internal training session last year, I accidentally saw a document that had some kids' ID codes and parameters. I jotted down a few of them. I'll find a chance to send them to you, but be careful—they're starting to suspect an internal leak."
After hanging up, Lin Qishan realized that his palms were slick with cold sweat. He took a deep breath to steady himself and kept his eyes on the phone screen. Before long, his encrypted chat app flashed with a new message—true to her word, Su Wei had risked sending over several orphan ID codes.
Seeing those codes, Lin Qishan felt a surge of resolve. He hurriedly scribbled down these critical clues. Spread open on his desk was a notebook filled with weeks' worth of notes from his investigation into Xiangci—anonymous tip-offs, irregular financial records from the welfare homes, and the names of several employees who had abruptly resigned from Xiangci's orphan facilities. Now, the term "XC-33 module" had burst onto the scene, making all those scattered clues suddenly seem connected. He picked up a pen, circled "XC-33" on the page, and jotted beside it: Orphan behavior model? Behavior-influencing tech module?
He needed to verify this hypothesis, so Lin Qishan decided to act. He opened his laptop and logged in to a public information database for social welfare institutions. Drawing on his years of investigative experience, he searched for records of orphans who had been adopted from or transferred out of Xiangci welfare homes. Entering the series of ID numbers that Su Wei provided, he tracked those children's trajectories over the past few years.
It wasn't long before one result caught his eye. In the quiet hours of the night, one particular record jumped out at him: three years ago, a boy labeled "X33-05" had been undergoing a psychological counseling program at a Xiangci welfare home when he was suddenly transferred to another medical institution. Shortly thereafter, he was listed as "recovered" and discharged into social care. However, when Lin Qishan tried to follow up on this boy, he found the trail cut off abruptly—after that point, there were no records of the child's existence. It was as if the boy had vanished into thin air following that transfer.
Lin Qishan stared hard at the screen. X33-05—this code was almost identical to "XC-33," and the boy's mysterious disappearance mirrored details from several orphan disappearance cases he'd been investigating. This was no coincidence. He quickly took a screenshot of the record, then continued digging for other, similar cases. Over the next few hours, he sifted through the data and pieced together a short list. Every orphan on that list had undergone some kind of special intervention under a Xiangci program. After that, they either went missing or suffered severe psychological breakdowns and were hospitalized—never returning to normal life. The pattern in their ID codes suggested that all of them had likely been part of the experiment code-named "XC-33."
By the time the eastern sky began to pale with dawn, Lin Qishan had already formulated a plan for the day. He would need to find the people on that list and hear about their experiences firsthand. One name on the list stood out, marked as "discharged and placed": Li Xiaotian, female, 17, currently residing in a youth assistance shelter on the city's outskirts. Lin Qishan decided to begin with her.
That evening, a light drizzle was still falling as Lin Qishan drove out to the suburbs and pulled up in front of the gray shelter building. To avoid arousing suspicion, he hadn't revealed himself as a journalist; instead, he slipped in posing as a social worker at the temporary youth shelter. At the end of a corridor, in a recreation room, he found Li Xiaotian—a thin, frail-looking girl sitting quietly in a corner, leafing through an old magazine. The dim fluorescent lights fell across her pale face, making her appear even more haggard than her seventeen years.
Lin Qishan approached softly and greeted her, "Hello, Xiaotian?"
The girl's head snapped up warily. She shut the magazine and fixed him with a guarded stare, saying nothing.
Offering a gentle smile, Lin Qishan lowered his voice. "I'm not a social worker. I'm a journalist, and I want to ask you about the Xiangci Welfare Home. Please don't worry—I won't use your name."
At the word "Xiangci," a flicker of fear flashed in Li Xiaotian's eyes and she instinctively drew back.
Lin Qishan quickly gentled his tone. "I know you went through some things there. I want to help expose the truth."
The girl remained silent for a long time, her gaze darting between the earnest look in Lin Qishan's eyes and the staff member visible near the doorway. Finally, she seemed to reach a decision. She gave a small nod. "We should talk quietly," she whispered.
The two of them moved to a secluded corner by the window. Raindrops tapped against the glass, providing a natural layer of cover for their voices. "I only remember bits and pieces," Li Xiaotian said softly. "They made me join a special project they said would help me get adopted faster. But those days… they were so strange." She twisted the hem of her shirt nervously, as if even recalling it was painful. "Every night, we had to wear this kind of helmet that was attached to a computer. They told us it was just 'playing a game,' but I often got bad headaches and had a lot of weird dreams. Sometimes our behavior in the daytime was tested with questionnaires—asking if we wanted to have a family, if being obedient and well-behaved made us good children, things like that."
Lin Qishan listened intently, astonishment rising in his chest. This was clearly a form of behavioral conditioning and psychological suggestion training. He asked quietly, "Have you ever heard the term 'XC-33'?"
Li Xiaotian froze for a second, then shook her head. "No… I don't remember any codes like that. But once I secretly peeked at one of the doctors' notebooks. It had drawings of our brains in it, and some parameters and curves. I recall the number '33' was written in the top right corner of that page, but I didn't understand anything else on it."
She paused, then continued in a lower voice, "After that, a few of the kids I grew up with were suddenly taken away. They said those kids were going to meet their new foster parents, but those children never came back. I was terrified, so I faked an illness and got myself admitted to a hospital to escape the orphanage. But not long after, a man claiming to be a social worker came to the hospital and asked me a lot of questions—he even secretly recorded me. That made me even more afraid. Since I left the hospital, I've been staying here and haven't dared to set foot outside."
In the dimly lit corner, Li Xiaotian's voice faltered in and out. Lin Qishan nodded sympathetically at intervals, even as a surge of shock and anger swelled inside him. The "helmet" and "questionnaires" she described—and the brain diagrams in that notebook—confirmed that the talk of an "orphan behavior model" was no mere rumor. It seemed very likely that Xiangci was using some kind of device to perform psychological manipulation and behavior control on the orphans, and that the "XC-33 module" was the key piece of technology enabling it.
As they were about to part, Lin Qishan asked softly, "One last question. Do you remember what that 'social worker' who came to the hospital looked like?"
Li Xiaotian thought for a moment. "A man in his thirties, wore glasses, very polite-looking. He said his name was Dr. Liu, but later I heard from a nurse that the hospital didn't have any psychologist named Liu."
Lin Qishan nodded and gently squeezed the girl's shoulder in reassurance. "Thank you for telling me all this. I'll find a way to bring the truth to light. But please, be careful from now on—don't trust any unfamiliar people. If someone comes to you again, contact the police or try to get a message to me." He handed her an anonymous contact number for himself, then watched as Li Xiaotian hurried out of the room and disappeared into the shadows down the hall.
It was deep into the night by the time Lin Qishan stepped out of the shelter. The rain had stopped, but puddles under the streetlights still shimmered with broken shards of light that quivered under his brisk footsteps. He pulled his coat tighter and cast a glance toward the distant city. Amid the bright lights of downtown, Xiangci's luxurious office tower was likely still fully illuminated at this hour—like a giant labyrinth concealing countless secrets. A deep chill crept up his spine. Everything Xiangci had done to those orphans was even more horrifying and convoluted than he had imagined.
Back in his car, Lin Qishan immediately backed up the recorded conversation to multiple secure storage locations, then used an encrypted communication channel to send portions of the information to a trusted colleague in another city as a precaution. He knew that the closer he got to the truth, the nearer danger loomed. Once he had taken these measures, he leaned back wearily in his seat and closed his eyes for a moment, organizing all the clues in his mind. The anonymous email had set events in motion; Su Wei's leaked ID codes had helped him pinpoint the victims; and Li Xiaotian's testimony had given concrete detail to the "XC-33 module" and the "orphan behavior model."
In his rearview mirror, he took one last look at the shelter's entrance, its outline already swallowed by the darkness. He failed to notice a pair of eyes watching from a black sedan parked not far away, its lights off. Lin Qishan stepped on the accelerator, and his car slipped into the night. He had no idea that his nocturnal exploits were already an open book to someone—and that an even larger shadow was quietly closing in.